


Fantastic Mutants and Where to Find Them

by ColorsofaYinYang



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Christianity, Coming of Age, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Obscurus (Harry Potter), Repression, Self-Acceptance, Slow Burn, Swearing, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorsofaYinYang/pseuds/ColorsofaYinYang
Summary: Bobby Drake's magic is... unusual, to say the least. The crush he has on his roommate isn't helping either.





	1. Part 1: Summer Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Just another crossover I couldn't get out of my head. Set before Fantastic Beasts, as Grindelwald is still on the loose.
> 
> Ages/appearances/mindsets as I imagine them are a bit complicated. In this chapter, Bobby is Last Stand age, Charles is post First-Class age/mindset, Logan is... Logan, Raven is also post First-Class mindset, and Hank and Alex are early First-Class mindset. Basically mashing all the generations together.
> 
> My beta is the lovely catshooter! Thank you very much love!

It's so cold.

His hands are frozen bitter and stiff, frost circling his head like a crown. Icy tattoos creep down his arms, adorning his fingers with silvery white spirals of isolation. His body is ever shifting, made of a million swirling snowflakes, edges sharp and biting like glass. When he moves, it feels like flying; the plunging, desperate flight of a nightingale from the talons of a hawk.

He's not himself, he can tell that much. Who is he, though? Wrong and alone: a freak. The embodiment of fear itself. The shards of ice cut into his body, leaving wounds where the blood that wells from underneath freezes almost instantly. The tears from the pain never hit the ground. He's swirling, a violent blizzard of white crossing his vision.

Suddenly, the white turns to black.

He can't stop shivering. The ground under his fingers is solid, real, and cold to the touch. Immediately he jolts up, panicked and disoriented. The desk next to the bed has been violently upended, papers scattered left and right. The wooden boards beneath him are frozen solid, and the insides of the windows are decorated with icy patterns.

_Knock, knock._

Heart racing, he grabs the sheets off the bed and covers the floor, then rushes to the window to let in the warm Long Island breeze.

"Bobby," his father calls from behind the door. An array of icicles had formed under the doorknob, and they make a steady dripping sound as they melt. "Are you all right? We heard some noises coming from your room."

Bobby puts his back to the door, hoping desperately that he doesn't come in. "I'm fine. It was just another nightmare."

"Alright..." His father sounds unsure, but the thumping of footsteps going back downstairs makes its way to Bobby's ears. He relaxes, slumping back and running a hand through his hair. It's wet with melting frost. The dripping of the icicles next to his ear drones out the pounding in his head.

A few years ago, a girl he had known had gotten chased out of town for being able to walk through walls. They claimed it was witchcraft. So what, then, would they do to him, when he causes mini-blizzards in the middle of June and doesn't know how to control it?

They can't know. They can't know he's a freak of nature, something dangerous and destructive. Something flows through his veins that is different than the rest, ice cold liquid power. He's afraid, so afraid of what they will say, of what they will do, how they will react. They can't know.

The acceptance of his isolation closes up his heart, the walls of an icy prison.

~

The day he gets caught kissing another guy is the day he meets Charles Xavier.

He's experimenting, he tells himself as he pulls the other guy closer. It's a boy from his school, who has a name that's entirely forgettable, and a face that he'll block out and never think about again. But in the meantime, his lips are warm and his hands are gentle, and that's really all he needs.

At least until the door swings open and he meets his brother's shocked and disgusted gaze.

Ronny turns and flees immediately, most likely to inform their parents. Bobby takes a deep breath and turns to his classmate, mumbling, "You'd better leave." The guy nods, putting on his shoes and sneaking back out the open window. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs echoes through the doorway, mingling with the _tap-tap_ of rain on the roof. Bobby sits with his hands folded in his lap and waits.

His parents are first, with Ronny trailing in behind them. His mother perches on the bed beside him, while his father remains standing. Ronny lingers in the doorway with a disgruntled look on his face.

"Bobby," his mother starts. "It's okay. We can fix this." His heart clenches in his chest, constricted with tendrils of pain.

"We'll schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist tomorrow. This will only be a phase in your life," his father continues. "You can change this." They don't understand, that he isn't normal like them, that he can't change this and might not even want to.

"What if..." he takes a deep breath. "What if this is who I am?"

His mother blinks at him, uncomprehending. "This can't be who you are, Bobby, it's unnatural."

"Your mother's right. Having those... feelings for another male is not right." His fingers are tingling, the temperature in the room dropping steadily, and no, not **now**...

"There's nothing wrong with me! Why would the Lord create humans that were tainted from the start?!" He's shaking in his distress, trying to distract himself from the gaping hole inside threatening to swallow him up.

"Bobby, calm down," his father says. His mother puts her hand on his shoulder. "It's just..."

"Disgusting," his brother sneers from the doorway, and that's it. He erupts in a flurry of snow and darkness, the light bulb on the ceiling shattering. His mother yelps, pulling her frostbitten hand back. There's shouting and screaming. Everything hurts. He escapes out the open window into the cool evening air. The rain outside freezes almost instantly, turning warm spring showers into solid hail. He's soaring up over the town. Black ice covers the roads below. It's freedom at it's worst; a detachment from the material world through the roaring chaos of himself. A gust of air pulls at him, and it feels like he's tearing apart at the seams.

"Bobby," a voice says in his head. He ignores it. Struggling to stay aloft against the harsh winds, he eventually lands in an alleyway on the outskirts of town. A large tree across the way tilts precariously over the main road, weighed down by a layer of snow that is quickly piling up. He collapses into a pile, his cloud-self dissipating into shaking bones and goosebumps. Shivering, his whole body tingles with the itchy sensation of warm water running over frozen skin, and fear begins to creep back into his mind. What will they do, now that they know? Will someone come searching for him, hunting him down to destroy the darkness inside?

"Bobby," the voice calls again in his mind, and he huddles into himself, trying to escape the cold. Great, now he's hallucinating, just another way he's not normal.

There's a soft tap on his shoulder. Startled, he looks up into a pair of the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen. A few unruly chestnut curls frame a flawless forehead, cheeks flushed red from the cold.

The man bites his lip as he stares at Bobby and Bobby stares back. After a long moment, he tilts his head, saying in a quick, fervent manner, "I didn't think I would make it in time."

Bobby blinks. "Who are you?"

"Charles Xavier," the man says, crouching down and smiling gently at him. The calm lilt of his British accent is foreign to Bobby, who is used to the harsh tones of New Jersey. "I understand you must be terribly confused. Suddenly developing an Obscurus is an especially stressful way of entering the realm of magic, after all."

"Magic?" Magic wasn't real though, was it? It was like the witchcraft his family and neighbors so condemned, a fantastical delusion that muddied the mind and left one empty, lacking the guidance of the Lord. Was he really that inherently messed up?

Charles made a concerned face. "My apologies," he reached out as if to comfort him, but thought better of it and instead fiddled with the hem of his tweed jacket. "I didn't realize you were from a muggle family. I'm just confusing you even further, aren't I?" At Bobby's nod, he stands and extends a hand to help him up. Bobby stares at the hand like he's asking him to seal a pact with the devil. "It's quite all right to be confused. I'm not explaining myself very well. But if you come with me, I can help you control your powers. After all, I run a school for people like you."

 _Freaks_ , Bobby's mind supplies, and Charles visibly winces. Probably the cold.

"How do I know I can trust you?" He asks, thinking over the offer. "For all I know, you're taking me in to destroy me once and for all." And I would probably let it happen, he thinks. There's nowhere for him to go after all of this except maybe hell.

Charles shakes his head and smiles slyly, putting his fingertips to his temple. Because I'm like you, his voice rings in Bobby's mind, clear as day. Bobby almost topples backward in surprise.

Charles' smirk turns into more of an understanding smile, eyes softening. "You're not alone, Bobby. There are others like us out there, waiting to be found. And, no matter what anyone else says, you are not a... a freak. Or anything of the sort. Magic may express itself in various ways, but no wizard or witch is born evil. Especially not you." He nods at Bobby and extends his hand again. "You're one of us, now. Will you come and meet the others? I'm sure they will love you."

After a moment of hesitation, Bobby places his trembling hand in Charles', who pulls him up to his feet. "Marvelous," Charles says, and the shine of happiness in his eyes has Bobby almost convinced of his sincerity.

~

The mansion stands in an isolated area on the border of New York and Connecticut, overlooking an expansive estate. Its ivy-choked stone walls and late-Victorian style architecture give the impression of a long-forgotten castle, left to erode in the elements. But on second glance, the hedges are immaculately shaped, yellow and orange flowers planted in strategic locations so as to catch the eye. The windows are clean and free from dust, with the exception of the highest row, most likely belonging to the attic.

Charles had insisted they take a taxi, as he didn't want to trigger another "episode" by travelling magically. As they pull up to the front gates, the driver, a middle-aged Hispanic woman, gives a short whistle at the sight. Bobby can relate. The whole place is like something straight out of a movie.

Charles pays the woman, fingers drifting to his temple as he does. When she starts up the engine and disappears down the road, he sighs guiltily. "I had to erase her memories of the address," he explains to Bobby, who's staring in awe at the estate. When he notices his fascination with the place, Charles grins. "Beautiful, isn't it? A family heirloom. I had to redo quite a bit, of course, but now it's complete again." As they walk through the gates towards the west side, Bobby can hear voices and see the figures of people in the distant garden.

"And all of this is yours?" He asks. There's small children running about, shrieking in delight as they play on the freshly mowed lawn. Off to the side, kids about his age sit in small groups, chatting under the shade of peach trees bursting with pink blossoms surrounded by vivid green leaves. An older man lounges in a deck chair smoking a cigarette, sunglasses shading his eyes but still giving the sense that he's watching everyone with a shrewd gaze.

"All of this is ours," Charles corrects with a sideways glance.

One of the younger kids lights up when she spots them and waves manically. The teens glance over and roll their eyes when Charles grins and waves back. Feeling a little lost and a tad alienated, Bobby shrinks behind him.

The man with the sunglasses stands up and takes them off when they approach, folding them up and sticking them into his shirt pocket. He's handsome in a rugged way, deep lines around his eyes speaking of a lifetime of hardship. His hair sticks up around the sides, reminding Bobby faintly of a horned owl.

"Who's the new kid?" He says in lieu of a greeting.

"Bobby Drake, sir," Bobby says, trying his hardest to give a good first impression. He holds out his hand. The other man shakes it with a firm grip, casually scrutinizing him the whole time. Finally, he says, "Logan Howlett. I'm a teacher here."

"Nice to meet you," Bobby nods, but he's already turned to Charles.

"She's back," he says, curt tone broadcasting disapproval. Charles' eyes widen the slightest amount.

"Who?" He asks innocently. Bobby notices his hands fluttering anxiously at his sides.

"You know damn well who," Logan growls lowly. "She's waiting in your office. Wouldn't tell me anything." Charles nods, makes toward the door, and then turns back.

"Introduce him to Hank, won't you? He'll fit in nicely with the Hufflepuffs, I'm sure."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan says, waving him off. "Better not keep her waiting." Charles smiles at them once more before turning and hurrying into the mansion. Logan claps him on the back, and Bobby jumps, startled.

"Hank's lab is in the basement." He glances at the balcony above them. A woman Bobby hadn't noticed before catches his gaze and nods when he points toward the door. "Storm'll keep an eye on things out here. Let's go." He ushers Bobby inside and strides purposefully down the hall. Bobby scrambles to keep up.

After half a minute of walking Logan freezes, holding up a hand to signal silence. The door to their left is ever so slightly open, with voices drifting out.

"... much too dangerous, Raven, they have ways of finding these things out!"

A woman, presumably Raven, answers, "You can't coddle me forever, Charles. Staying here and hiding won't help the world any." There's a faintly exasperated and accusing tone to her words.

"There's no harm in staying for a couple days, at least," Charles pleads. "We all miss you. We can discuss long-term plans at a later time." There's a tense pause.

"Erik's planning something," Raven says finally. "It has something to do with Grindelwald." Logan makes an audible noise, a disbelieving sound, and then realizing it, begins to slowly back away. There's another break in conversation, then Charles' amused face peeks out of the doorway.

"Logan," he says, raising an eyebrow. "I do believe the stairs to the laboratory are on the other side of the school." Logan shrugs.

"My memory's slipping, professor. Must be old age," he turns to Bobby. "Oh, now I remember. Let's get going, kid." He winks not-so-subtly at him.

Charles gives a short chuckle, although his eyes are strained. "Tell Hank to come up," he says. "It's almost suppertime." Without looking back Logan gives a thumbs up.

Logan's pace seems to lack the pointed determination of before. Instead he strides languidly down the hall, making a sharp right and gesturing toward a large staircase. "Hank's down there. His weird 'science' lab," he says whilst making air quotes. "Go on, I'll be right behind you."

With a little trepidation, Bobby takes the first step down. Something about having Logan, who has the air of a predator lazily stalking its next kill, right behind him is terrifying. But he manages to steel his nerves and continues carefully down the stairs, gripping the banister tightly.

The lab is well-lit and extremely organized, to Bobby's surprise. There's a young man in a white lab coat standing with his back to them, leaning over a table and fiddling with two vials containing blue and magenta solutions.

"Hank," Logan calls, and Hank holds up a finger.

"One moment, Alex, I've almost figured out the correct ratio of this..." He tips a bit of magenta into the blue and it lets out a small puff of smoke, turning clear as air. "Finally," Hank breathes, putting a cork on the vial and turning to greet them. "Oh!" He exclaims, face scrunching up. "Logan. What a pleasant surprise. I thought Alex-"

"Just because we all know what you two get up to down here doesn't mean I want to hear about it," Logan interrupts. Hank blushes intensely, pushing up his glasses with a finger. "This is Bobby. Charles said he'll be in your house."

"Nice to meet you," Hank says. His eyes, unsure yet kind, project a sort of social awkwardness that Bobby can definitely relate to. "I would offer a handshake, but as you can see," he wiggles his fingers, showing off his stained rubber gloves, "that would be a little dangerous." He gives a small, nervous smile.

"Uh, no worries," Bobby replies, and Hank's smile grows wider. Emboldened by this, Bobby asks, "Are you a student here, then?"

Hank shrugs. "Well... I'm actually a teacher. But mostly because no one else knows about this kind of stuff," he reassures when Bobby tries to apologize. "Magic-folk tend not to care about how science and technology work, so I'm one of the few who's interested."

"Science?" Logan asks with a snort. "It's Potions."

"I do Potions  **and** science," Hank protests.

There's a sharp knocking sound. They turn to see a blonde man leaning against the wall and smirking at them. "You guys are going to be late to dinner," he states, then, gesturing at Bobby, "Who's he?"

"Bobby, Alex, Alex, Bobby," Hank introduces them. At the mention of dinner, Bobby glances at his watch, realizing he hadn't eaten since early morning. "Bobby's new here, so he doesn't know many people."

Alex grins easily at him with a scheming look on his face. "I'll introduce you to my kid brother, Scott." Logan groans.

"I hate that kid." Alex raises an eyebrow at him.

"You don't hate him," he says decisively, chuckling and heading back up the stairs. "After all, he's the one who started your little 'fanclub'." Logan lunges after him, and Alex's wild laughter echoes down the stairs, leaving Hank and Bobby alone in the lab.

"Well..." Hank says awkwardly. He turns back to his vials, corking them and then stripping off his gloves. "Give me a few minutes to clean up and then we'll go to dinner, I suppose," he says over his shoulder. "In the meantime, feel free to hang out, but don't touch anything!"


	2. Fireman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the not-boyfriend (or at least, not yet).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stuff: Scott, Peter, Jubilee and Jean are Apocalypse age, Storm is the first X-men age, and John is pre-Last Stand mindset.

Scott's a nice guy, if a bit strange. His red-tinted sunglasses catch Bobby off-guard every time he looks at him. And although he's a bit younger, he carries himself with far more confidence than Bobby's ever had. Alex had handed him off to Scott, and he immediately pulled him over to their table in the blink of an eye.

Introductions were made in a flurry of names and questions. Scott was sitting next to him, and on his other side sat a silver-haired boy named Peter, who talked in a rapid-fire way and never seemed to slow down. Next to Scott was Jean, who struck Bobby as exceptionally mysterious, with an aura of wisdom around her. Finally, across from him was Jubilee, the school's inside source of gossip. All of this he learned in a minute or so, and, as the stream of people flowing in steadily decreased, a hush fell over the crowd.

Charles was sitting at the front of the room at a table with Logan and Hank, along with two other women Bobby could not identify. The younger of the two had white hair streaked with black, and sat in such a manner that made her seem composed and powerful. The other was blonde and distinctively beautiful, even with the scowl on her face that made it very clear she did not want to be there. A few murmurs pass through the room as Charles stands up.

"Everyone," Charles starts. "I'd like to say a few words, if you please." He glances around, nodding in acknowledgement when the room falls silent. "First, some introductions." He gestures towards their table. "Our newest student, Bobby Drake, will be inducted as a Hufflepuff." The students applaud, shouting greetings and Bobby sinks lower in his seat in embarrassment. What even is a Hufflepuff?

"And this is my sister, Raven." Charles says when the noise dies down. There's a moment of tense silence as Raven glares up at him, as though she hadn't wanted to be noticed. Then Hank starts clapping, and the students join in, hesitant at first, but then more accepting as the applause continues. "Welcome back," Charles says to her, eyes soft. Raven looks at him for only a moment before turning her gaze back down and nodding almost imperceptibly.

After a couple more announcements about tests coming up and a reminder to Logan about the effects of smoking (which Logan ignores), Charles claps his hands. "Dinner tonight was made by Ravenclaw, please enjoy!" Plates of food appear on the table out of thin air, roasted chicken and boiled vegetables, along with bowls of creamy clam chowder and whole grain bread. The room fills with the sound of chatter and utensils clinking.

"So that's Raven," Scott muses. "Alex told me the Professor had a sister, but I didn't really believe it. I wonder where she's been all this time." Jubilee leans forward.

"I heard," she says in a hushed tone that screams gossip, "that she was over in Europe gathering information at Hogwarts. Metamorphmagi are great for inside spy work."

"Hogwarts?" Bobby asks. "Meta-what?" Everyone looks at him as though these terms were common knowledge.

"He's a muggle-born," Jean says, piping up from where she had slowly been sipping her chowder.

"Oh..." The rest nod in understanding.

"Hogwarts is where the Professor studied," Jean says, affixing her steely-blue gaze on him. "He told me they have a hat that sorts people into their houses! We don't have anything like that, so the Professor tends to just place people where he feels they would fit in."

"Houses?" Bobby asks.

"Yeah, Slytherins are cunning, Ravenclaws are smart, like Jean and the Professor, Hufflepuffs are loyal, and Gryffindors are the best!" Peter rattles off, punching the air at the end. Jubilee smacks him on the back of the head with her napkin.

"Gryffindors are the brave. And sometimes the stupid," she corrects. Scott makes an offended face but then goes back to eating his chicken.

"As I was saying," Jean glares at Peter before continuing, "Hogwarts is set up similarly to here, the X Mansion, but with a few key differences. First, instead of basing years on skill like how we do, they base it off of age. So a third year could potentially be trash at magic, but a first year could excel. Obviously that wouldn't work here because we have such a diverse age group. Secondly, their houses are completely separate and compete instead of working together. I suppose the Professor didn't like their system and changed it to suit his pacifist values. Finally, the wizards and witches there are limited to using wands for power."

"Wands?" Bobby asks. Sounds like some fictional fantasy to him...

"It's definitely not fiction," Jean says, as if reading his mind. "They have to use wands to channel their magic. The students here are ones who possess the ability to do wandless magic, a rare occurrence in the magical community. According to Hank it has something to do with a mutation in the magic gene. You could say we're magical mutants."

Bobby blinks at her, trying to absorb it all. So even in the magical community they're different. "You're overwhelming him, Jean," Peter complains. He pokes Bobby in the cheek and grins at him. "Don't worry, man," he says. "Magic's easy. It'll come naturally to you. It's what it was meant to do."

"Right." But does he really want his magic to come naturally? So far it's only caused the fracturing of his family and his alienation from the rest of the world. Jean glances at him in concern.

"Anyway," Scott jumps in, yanking Bobby away from his thoughts. "Mr. Howlett's looking pretty fine today." He winks.

"I still don't understand why you three are obsessed with him," Jubilee rolls her eyes. "He's like super old!"

"He's not THAT old," Scott replies defensively, at the same time that Jean says, "He's hot," as though it's an indisputible fact. Peter just gives a wolf whistle and turns to chuck a chicken bone into the trash bin.

So this is what Alex meant when he said Logan had a fanclub.

~

After dinner, Jubilee has to stay behind to clean up with the other Slytherins, and Scott and Peter are preoccupied with talking to one of the teachers, so Bobby follows Jean out to the main hall. Charles is there, and he lights up when he sees them.

"Oh, Bobby! I figured out your rooming situation. And hello to you, Jean," he says. Jean smiles, exchanging glances with him as if having a silent conversation. "Right," Charles says, then gestures toward the stairs. "Come along, Bobby, and I'll show you to your room. In the meantime, good night Jean."

"Good night, Professor, Bobby." Bobby waves as she turns and walks off into the darkened halls. Charles starts up the stairs, and Bobby follows.

There are a few girls having a chat in the dark that scatter when Charles turns the corner. He walks to the end of the hall and using the light of the moon shining through the window above Bobby picks out the shape of yet another staircase. As they climb, Charles talks to him in a soft voice, as if coaxing a small animal, "Your roommate may be a little... hard to get used to, but I think he'll balance you out quite nicely... Give him a chance to prove himself, okay?" Bobby nods his assent.

The next floor up is a little less orderly, the houseplants in the hall crispy around the edges with brown, old wallpaper peeling at the corners. Charles raps on the first door on the left, and a voice from within answers, "Yeah?"

The door opens a crack, allowing the yellow glow of candlelight to illuminate the hall. "Oh. Professor," the voice says begrudgingly, and the door opens wider. The boy who stands in the doorway is about Bobby's age, with slicked back, brown-blonde hair and dark, suspicious eyes. In his right hand he holds a lighter, which he flicks open and, after a moment, clicks closed again, only to repeat the motion. With the glimmering golden light behind him he looks wild, unholy and dangerous, with a deadly edge to him. His narrowed eyes slide over to Bobby, who quickly casts his gaze down, as if looking directly at him would be painful.

"John, this is Bobby Drake. He'll be your new roommate." Charles meets John's eyes with a steady, almost forceful stare, as though he's used to being rebelled against by this particular individual. John's upper lip curls in a grimace, then he jerks his chin in Bobby's direction.

"What level are you?"

"We don't know," Charles answers for him. "But... from what I've seen, it's very possible he could be an Omega-level wizard."

John's attention returns sharply to Charles. "Omega-level?" He repeats, glancing over Bobby as if reassessing him. After a few seconds of scrutiny he sighs, turns and stalks back into the room, tossing a "come in" over his shoulder.

The first things Bobby notices are the candles. With the curtains drawn, the flickering flames situated on shelves around the room are the only source of light. Shadows quiver and dance across the walls, as though delighted to see him. There are two beds; the left sports a thin, black blanket dangling precariously off the edge, while the right looks largely untouched. With the exception of a black hoodie draped on a chair in the corner and a matching backpack on the floor, the room is lacking in personal possessions.

A moment of silence passes. _Click, click_ goes the lighter, the predictable pulse of it unnerving. "So when's he gonna take the test?" John asks.

"Tomorrow morning, if you're fine with that," Charles says, addressing Bobby. "It's nothing to worry about, I assure you. Mostly we use it for analyzing how much control and power you have." After Bobby nods in response, he turns to John. "Will you be there? If things get rough I imagine you're the only one who could withstand it."

John glances sideways at Bobby. "We'll see," he says shortly.

"Very well," Charles sighs. "I suppose that's the best I'll get out of you. Breakfast is from 7 to 8," he informs. "Until then, pleasant dreams." He drifts out the door, closing it smoothly behind him.

John flops down onto the left bed and stares stubbornly at the ceiling. Bobby, feeling self-conscious, sits on the edge of the right bed, fiddling with his sleeve. After a few moments of silence, he tries to strike up a friendly conversation. "So... how long have you been here?" John rolls over and eyeballs him.

"Too long," is his terse reply. Bobby waits for more, but he doesn't seem like he's going to say anything else.

Floundering for conversation topics, he asks, "Charles is pretty nice, why don't you like him?"

John raises an eyebrow. "First name basis?" There's a pause, then, "I hate it when they try telling me what to do. As if they know what's best for us. Limiting our powers and keeping us subdued is just another way of destroying us."

A little shocked by the bitter resentment in his voice, Bobby lies back and thinks about it. He thinks of his own powers, of how his frosty darkness had caused blackouts and frostbite, hypothermia and damage to houses. He can't imagine what would have happened if he had just accepted it, letting the darkness out. "You're wrong," he says, to the ceiling. "Keeping our powers under control is the best thing to do, for everyone."

John's eyes narrow in disgust. "You're just like the rest of them," he hisses, and with a wave of his hands the candles extinguish themselves, leaving the room in smokey shadow.

With a hollow feeling in his chest, Bobby turns to face the wall, drifting off to the sound of that lighter clicking furiously in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan's always portrayed as the one who likes Jean, so I thought why not give him some love?


	3. Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Polar bear in a snowstorm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original character introduced in this chapter, one of the reasons I made him was as a convenient substitute for Hank's serum that he used in DoFP.

By the time the sun peeks over the horizon, John is gone, leaving the black blanket in the middle of his bed like a pile of ashes. There's a note at the door from Charles perched on a small package that contains a change of clothes and some toiletries. After freshening up in the nearest bathroom (and searching frantically for his watch, giving up the hunt ten minutes later), he hurries downstairs to the dining hall. Breakfast is almost over, and his testing room is all the way in the basement.

Scott invites him to sit with them again, to Bobby's immense relief. There's nothing more nerve-racking than standing alone in the middle of a school cafeteria. When he arrives, Jubilee scoots to the edge of her seat and stares at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"...Something on my face?" Bobby ventures, a little put off.

"Is it true?" She asks. "You're John's roommate?" When Bobby nods, she practically leaps across the table to envelop him in a hug. "I'm so glad you're alive," she fake-sobs.

"He's not that bad," Bobby assures her, secretly grateful that the cheap cafeteria table hadn't collapsed underneath her. "Kind of a jerk, but those kinds of people exist everywhere, so..."

"He set his last roommate's hair on fire," Jean says with a deadpan expression. Peter laughs.

"The guy totally had it coming, though!"

"I'm sure I'll be able to deal with him." Between his weird uncontrollable ice powers and the hair-trigger for them, Bobby's more worried for John's sake than his own. Peter doesn't look convinced.

"I dunno, man," he says. "Allerdyce's pretty fuckin' strong."

"Peter," Jean glares at him. "Language."

"Promises, promises." He rolls his eyes and sops up the lake of maple syrup on his plate with the last bite of pancake. "But seriously, I heard he took on a whole squad of police once." He swallows, glances at his watch, and gets up. "I'd love to stay and chat with you ladies, but we've got two minutes. You're going to the Danger Room, right?" He asks Bobby. "Walk you there?"

"I don't want to make you late," Bobby says, appreciating the offer. Peter shakes his head and smirks.

"Nah, man, I'm the fastest kid in the school. I'll be fine." When Bobby turns to Scott to confirm with a disbelieving expression, he shrugs.

"Sometimes Howlett teaches down there," he says, as if that magically makes everything okay. Peter starts whistling with an innocent look that says, 'of course I don't have any ulterior motives!'.

Exactly at 8, a bell rings signaling the start of classes. Peter bounds out the door with an inexplicable amount of energy for it being so early, and Bobby, worried that he'll be left behind, jogs after him. Together, they manage to squirm their way through the crowded halls and arrive at an elevator.

Peter presses the button with childish glee, then chirps, "You're from a No-Maj family, right?" At Bobby's blank stare, he clarifies, "No magic? Muggle-born? We tend to switch between the terms."

"Yeah, I am." He hadn't really thought about his family since he left. What must they be thinking? Are they worried about him, or glad he left?

"I'm half and half." Peter purses his lips. "I'm curious. What's it like, having two muggle parents?"

There's a second of silence filled only with the rumbling of the elevator approaching. "They don't get it," Bobby says quietly. Tears well in the corners of his eyes, and he squeezes them shut. Peter politely pretends not to notice.

"My mom was like that too at first, but after my sister was born she started accepting it a little more." The elevator arrives and they step inside, the interior shiny and sterile. Something nags at Bobby.

"What about your dad? He's the magic one then, right?" Peter's expression shifts to an indifferent, detached look as he pushes the button for the basement.

"He's off somewhere in Europe fighting a magical war. Or so the Professor says." He pauses, eyes going distant. "Apparently they used to be good friends." The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Snapping from his trance, Peter snorts and runs a hand through his hair. "Jean's convinced they were fucking." Bobby tries not to think too hard about that.

As they exit, Bobby spots a woman standing in the middle of the hall. When she turns their way, he realizes it's the white-haired teacher from dinner. She's a little intimidating, hands on her hips in a no-nonsense pose, but there's also something that makes her seem inherently trustworthy. "Mr. Drake," she greets. "Mr. Maximoff. Logan's not here today," she informs Peter with amusement in her eyes. Peter visibly deflates.

"Guess I'm off to class then." He salutes dramatically, then, after briefly fixing the goggles that remind Bobby of an aviator, he's gone, a gust of wind the only indication he had ever been there.

"He wasn't kidding," Bobby remarks, for lack of a better thing to say.

~

"The Danger Room is a way of training our students in different scenarios," the teacher, Storm, explains. "Using holograms, we project different environments for students to work in. Some students use it for alone time. Others use it for stress or anger management. Originally it was built as a shelter at the time of the Cold War, so it can withstand practically anything up to the power of a nuclear bomb. I'm guessing your powers don't involve atomic fusion or fission," she says, eyes twinkling with mirth, "so we should be fine."

"We'll be projecting a battle scenario for you today," Charles' voice floats over to them from the doorway. "Nothing too complicated, but just enough danger to activate your powers. Hopefully we'll be able to better understand how they work after this, and then we can start fine-tuning your control." Bobby nods and Storm pats him on the back.

"Don't worry about anything. Just let go." She smiles and leaves him standing in the center of the room, sealing the double steel doors behind her. Lights start flashing on the walls, and a whirring sound fills the air.

Suddenly, he's in a forest, dark green trees rising to scrape the sky above. The place smells like pine and soil, and if this is a projection, it sure as heck feels real. The moss is damp and squishy beneath his sneakers, the high whistle-chirp-chirp of a nightingale echoing in the distance.

The screech of metal on metal distracts him from his observations. He turns to see a large humanoid robot pointing its cannon-arm at him. He scrambles away right as it fires, a burst of bullets hitting the ground where he had been just moments before. Keeping his eyes on the robot, he clenches his fists, trying to activate his powers. But there's nothing, no telltale tingle of cold, no shivers running up and down his spine.

The robot advances, and Bobby dodges another attack. It's supposed to come naturally, right? He tries to focus and pictures a wall of ice, hands shaking. Nothing happens. Starting to panic, he backs behind a large tree and tries to slow his breathing. The heavy footsteps of the robot synchronize with the blood pounding in his ears. Then, silence. With a feeling of dread, he glances around, waiting for a flash of polished silver to appear.

_Thwack. Thwack._

Horrified, he sees the tree start to fall towards him, the red glow of the robot's eyes being slowly revealed behind the leaves. Running won't help. He's going to be crushed.

The bead of sweat rolling down his forehead freezes.

He explodes in a cloud of snowflakes, swerving narrowly out from under the branches just as they strike the ground with a large _thud_. Heartbeat speeding rapidly out of control, the temperature starts to plummet around him, even as he soars skyward. Clouds start forming around him, water vapor condensing, snow drifting down in heavy clumps.

There's no wind here. The vile, cold-blooded creature inside growls happily at this fact, and he strains to keep it on a leash. The robot, still on the ground below, fires another volley at him. The bullets freeze solid before they reach him, dropping out of the sky like flies to the forest floor.

A spike of anger shoots through him at the attack. On impulse he encircles the robot, a swirling cloud of malevolence, spinning faster and faster. The quicker he goes, the colder it gets, the red eyes of the robot blinking and fading fast under a thick layer of frost. The monster inside thrashes and tells him to keep going, and the blizzard becomes unbearable, the ice eating him from the inside out. Dizzily, he tries to reign it back in, but it's already out of his control.

The last thing he remembers before he blacks out is a familiar clicking, and the fierce glow of an inferno burning the forest to the ground.

~

"What were you thinking?!"

The loud growl jostles him from sleep, and instinctively he tries to sit up and apologize for whatever caused that tone of voice. The dull throbbing in his head escalates into a sharp shock of pain that runs all the way down his spine. It feels like he's being skewered by a long, thin needle, a shish-kabob of suffering. Panting, he drops back onto the bed, squeezing his eyes shut against the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Over the sound of his own heartbeat, he hears Charles speak from the room over.

"There's no need to raise your voice, Logan." He sounds tired. "We simply need more time to work on his control."

"He's an Obscurial!" Logan argues, voice only slightly quieter. "There's nothing we can do to handle that! We should send him to Ilvermorny. They have trained professionals. They're more equipped to handle-"

"No." Charles' voice is firm. "The whole reason I started this school was to help people like him. Outcasts, people who need shelter from the world. If I refuse him, this mansion would become just another place of discrimination."

"You're endangering us all by keeping him here. The temperature in that room was approaching zero Kelvin, Charles!"

There's a pause. Bobby strains to hear as Charles murmurs, "He's just as dangerous as you were when you first got here."

Another pause, then Logan sighs loudly, grumbling a bit. He's obviously not happy, but it seems the argument is over. The pain in his head recedes slightly, and the soothing velvety darkness of sleep beckons him. He falls into its arms with gratitude.

~

When he awakens again, there's a young boy perched on a stool next to the bed. He's holding one of Bobby's hands, and drinking from a little juice box. When Bobby shifts, joints cracking, his leaf-green eyes go comically wide.

"Professor!" The boy jumps and runs from the room, hollering. Bobby winces and slowly sits up, taking a deep breath as he blinks the sleep from his eyes. There's the _ding_ of an elevator, and then Charles rolls through the doorway in a wheelchair.

"Ch- Professor!" Bobby exclaims, horrified. "What happened? What did I do?" Charles looks confused for a second before silencing him with a raised hand.

"My condition is not your fault," he says. "It was an accident, a long time ago. Usually the boy who was watching over you, Malachite, helps me regain my legs, but I insisted he focus his full energy on healing you. How are you feeling?"

His head feels much better, but the rest of his body feels stiff and unused. "I'm fine," Bobby responds. "How long was I out for?"

Charles avoids his gaze and the question. "How much do you remember?"

"Not much." He pauses. "My magic wasn't working. Do you think... something's wrong with me?" Charles is shaking his head fervently before Bobby's even done with the sentence.

"Of course not. Magic is in your genes. Sometimes it just needs a little more time to come out. Perhaps," he muses. "We'll start you out with a wand. Just a training one, to allow you to focus your magic. Hopefully that'll allow you to activate it on command, instead of in response to your emotions." He hums, lost in thought.

"Dinner in ten!" Malachite pipes from the doorway, running off once more as soon as he's delivered his message. Charles startles, then rolls his wheelchair away from the bed.

"If you're feeling better, come out and eat. Your friends are looking forward to your return."

"Um... Professor?" Bobby looks down, ashamed. "Sorry about what happened. And... thanks for stopping me."

"There's no need to apologize, Bobby. And don't thank me," he says, eyes twinkling. "Thank John." With that, he rolls out the door, leaving Bobby with a confused mind and an empty stomach.

~

"Bobby!" Peter slaps him on the back as the others crowd around. "Glad to see you up and walking!"

Bobby grins back, even as he glances around the room, trying to spot John. "Yeah, so am I." There's no sign of the other boy however, so he sits down in disappointment.

"What happened?" Jubilee asks. "You were gone for three days. I heard," she continues as Bobby chokes in surprise on his salad, "that you had a fight with John and he tried to burn the whole Danger Room down."

"What? No!" Bobby shakes his head. "Actually, I think John saved me." Everyone's eyes widen in surprise as he recaps the story. "I was trying to find him earlier," Bobby finishes, "but he's not here."

"'Course not," Peter responds, a piece of romaine lettuce sticking out of his mouth. "He's never here. I think I've seen him eat maybe... twice? He usually goes off campus by himself. It's against the rules, but it's not like I've never done it before." He nods as if justifying it to himself.

"He's a rule breaker and a troublemaker," Scott chimes in, seriously. "I wouldn't go seeking him out if I were you." Bobby shrugs, silently disagreeing the whole time.

Peter casually sneaks a crouton from Scott's plate.

"Don't judge him," Jean says quietly. "Not everyone can come from a great family like yours." Jubilee puts her arm around her protectively, and Scott immediately tries to apologize.

"Anyway," Peter says loudly, changing the topic. "We're all so glad you came back, Bobby. Know why?" At Bobby's confused head tilt he grins. "Hufflepuff's making breakfast tomorrow! Have fun waking up at 6 in the morning!" Cackling, he stacks his plate in the center of the table, then dashes away in a blur. Jubilee rolls her eyes and mutters "Gryffindors..." under her breath.

Bobby sighs resignedly, using a fork to draw circles in the remaining salad dressing on his plate. Stomach turning uneasily, he makes up an excuse to leave and quickly sneaks out of the cafeteria, heading outside. Breathing in the cool evening air, he notices the faint twinkling of stars high above, clouds approaching from all sides, intending to cover them up. The moon is shining brightly, and as he squints, he can barely make out a shadow in the shape of a person crossing over the light, as if a seraph was passing overhead.

After a while, the wind starts to pick up, causing goosebumps to break out along his arms. Worn out and lethargic from his apparent three-day coma, the trek upstairs to his and John's room is grueling. Once upstairs, he falls into bed, the springs squeaking in protest. The curtains are open, condensation fogging up the glass of the windows and diluting the moonlight into amorphous shapes. Resolving to wake up when John returns, Bobby wraps himself in the thin wool blanket and dozes off into uneasy dreams of dancing shadows.

~

The door creaks open a quarter past midnight, and John slinks in, blood staining his jeans and trickling down from a nasty scrape on his hand. He curses, fumbling with his lighter. With a flick, a tiny flame flares to life in the palm of his hand.

Squinting at the sudden light, Bobby lifts a hand to shield his eyes, still half asleep. "You're back," he says, drowsily.

"No shit, Sherlock," John mutters, angrily dabbing his wound with an old sock. At Bobby's sleepy yet inquisitive look he snaps, "What?"

There's chaos in his eyes, Bobby notes absently, a raging wildfire that leaves nothing untouched. A faint trace of smoke lingers in the room, the smell of something burnt and dead permeating the air. John peers at him for a moment before deciding to ignore him; instead he sheds his hoodie and peels off his t-shirt to inspect the cut on his hip. His back is pale, free of scars or blemishes. It's almost unsettling, how perfectly blank his skin is, like a canvas for a charcoal painting. He cranes his neck around to glance at Bobby again, and there's the subtle suggestion of muscle, spine protruding like a wire hanger from his lean torso.

"You gonna watch me change, Drake?" Realizing he'd been staring, Bobby quickly turns onto his other side to give John his privacy. There's a zip, the rustling of clothes following soon after. The sounds and their implications are strangely arousing, and Bobby blushes pink with shame. What is he, some kind of teenage virgin?

Of course, the answer is yes, but it's still embarrassing. He shifts around in the blankets, trying to go back to sleep. He's halfway to dreamland when John speaks again.

"An annoying-ass bird said you were looking for me. Got something to say?"

Bobby yawns, half-lidded eyes fluttering. "Thanks... for stopping me earlier."

"You stayed up all night to tell me **that**?" John snorts. "'S no big deal. That's the most excitement I've had since I got here." He pauses, and the flame of the lighter grows a little bigger and brighter, casting an orange glow on the insides of Bobby's eyelids. "Tell you what," he finally adds. "We'll do some training by ourselves." His voice is sharp and insistent, leaving no room for refusal. For some reason, Bobby doesn't want to refuse anyway. He risks turning around again; John's already done changing, and is slipping out the door with a towel.

"I'm gonna take a fucking shower," he throws over his shoulder. "Tomorrow, after lunch. Meet me in the Danger Room." Then he's gone, leaving the room in darkness. The last thing Bobby remembers before falling asleep is wondering if John brings that lighter into the bath with him.


	4. Happiness is a Warm Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby gets a wand. Wood types are based off the descriptions on Pottermore if you want to check out the "lore" behind why I chose what for who.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rogue is Last Stand age and Warren and Kurt are Apocalypse age.

The next morning, someone knocks on the door. John's sprawled face-down in the mattress, arm hanging limply over the side. Bobby's tempted to poke him just to make sure he's still alive, but decides his life is more important.

The wooden floor is freezing cold under his feet as he crosses the room to open the door. It's a girl, a striking white streak in her hair standing out against the rest of her dark locks. "Mornin'," she says with a hint of a southern accent. "The Professor sent me to wake you up. I'm Rogue." She holds out her hand, bashfully avoiding eye contact, and Bobby shakes it. She's wearing gloves, he notices, black ones that extend all the way up to her elbows.

"I'm Bobby," he replies, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Um... I'll be down in a few."

He hurries to the washroom, cleans up and stumbles down the stairs. Rogue's waiting on a bench, legs crossed and reading from a book. When she notices him, she beckons him over to sit next to her.

"There's another Hufflepuff living up on the top floor, so I usually wait for him on breakfast days. He should be down soon." She flips a page, blowing hair out of her face. Bobby folds his hands in his lap and stares at the ground, his social skills folding incredibly under the pressure. A bit of dust gets into his nose; he sneezes. Suddenly, it grows dark. Something's blocking out the light filtering in from above.

They both look up. The first thing Bobby sees is white. Pure white feathers attached to two strong wings, attached to... a guy? He's wearing a thin black tank top that shows off his muscles, and is carrying a smaller boy in his arms. The sunlight gleaming on his golden curls coupled with the bright white of his wings makes him look like an actual angel descending from the heavens. It suddenly hits Bobby that this must have been the person flying across the moon the night before.

He lands and the boy in his arms hops to the ground. His looks are even stranger; unusual, dark blue skin patterned with scars, and exotic yellow eyes. He also has a tail, Bobby notices as it unwraps itself from the angel's arm.

"Dramatic entrance as always, Warren," Rogue remarks dryly.

The winged boy gives her a smirk that is definitely not angelic. "I try."

The blue boy leaps across the room to wrap Rogue in a hug. "Good morning!" He says with a thick German accent. Then he turns his wide yellow eyes up at Bobby, cocking his head innocently. "Who's this?"

"This is Bobby. He's the new Hufflepuff. Bobby, this is Kurt, and that's Warren."

"Nice to meet you," Kurt says, shyly. Despite his strange appearance, he's literally the most adorable person Bobby's ever seen. Warren, preoccupied with getting something out of his feathers, holds up a hand in greeting.

"We should get going," Rogue says, turning to leave.

"Ah!" Kurt's tail perks up like he's remembered something. "Wait one moment please!" He bounds back to Warren, reaching up on tiptoe to plant a tiny peck on his cheek. Smiling fondly, Warren reciprocates with a kiss on the top of Kurt's head, murmuring low and intimate to him. Feeling like an intruder, Bobby averts his gaze. After a few seconds Kurt beams up at Warren."Bis bald, Engel!" He chirps as Warren flaps his wings, sending a large gust of wind their way, and soars up past the stairs toward the top floor.

"They're the school celebrity couple," Rogue whispers as Kurt scurries back toward them. "Warren's a feathery asshole, but he adores Kurt. I mean, the kid thinks he's a literal angel."

"Omelet day!" Kurt pipes up, cheerfully ignorant to their conversation. Bobby smiles down at him as he skips past, tail waving hypnotically in the air.

"So what's with the blue color?" He asks Rogue. "And Warren's wings? Are those normal for wizards?"

"Kurt has a magical mutation inherited from his mom," Rogue answers. "And Warren was an Animagus. That means he can transform into a specific animal," she adds in response to Bobby's confused look. "But he had an accident, and got stuck between bird and human. So now he's a little of both."

"Huh," Bobby says. He hadn't really thought about what magic could do besides destroy. Kurt's already at the end of the hall, and he waves for them to hurry up. With a grin, Bobby jogs over, already planning how to make a killer omelet.

~

  
Bobby ends up frying eggs with Hank, while trying not to doze off and face-plant into the sizzling yellow. Rogue's in the corner chopping up ingredients, and Kurt's making two bowls of what he calls "muesli". One's meant for a young vegan, and the other for Warren, who unsurprisingly has a problem with **eating eggs**.

Kurt insists on eating breakfast outside, so Bobby ends up introducing Rogue to the rest of the table. She and Jubilee immediately hit it off, chatting about worksheets and tests. Coincidentally, she also harbors a massive crush on Logan.

"I actually came here with him," she says, earning three envious stares. "He doesn't see me as anything more than a protege, though." Scott nods sympathetically.

After Bobby helps Rogue clean their table, Charles beckons him over. "Follow me," he says with a twinkle in his eyes. They make their way through the winding hallways to arrive at a menacing steel door.

"Wizards like us are very blessed to be able to perform wandless magic," Charles says. "Nevertheless, the majority of us are limited to certain types of magic. Although we don't rely on them," he pulls out a slender brown wand with a flourish, "wands can still be rather useful. My own wand is made of cypress wood, with a unicorn hair core." There's a tinge of pride in his voice. He taps on the door thrice with the wand, and it opens silently and effortlessly.

The room beyond is incredible. Bobby gapes in awe at the impossible dimensions, unnaturally tall dressers towering above them, reaching toward the distant ceiling. After getting over the initial shock, he follows Charles toward the back wall, running his fingers over the polished wooden faces of the drawers.

"All the wands in this room were donated by my good friend Mr. Ollivander, the most renowned wand maker in Britain. I'm sure one of them will take a fancy to you."

Bobby peeks curiously into one of the drawers, revealing a collection of long rectangular boxes. "You're talking about them like they're sentient?"

Charles chuckles. "Not quite," he says. "They don't have thought processes like we do. However, a wand has the capacity to make very important decisions, the most important of all being its owner. As the saying goes, the wand chooses the wizard, and not the other way around."

Bobby nods, not fully comprehending but getting the gist of it. Charles makes a gesture with his wand, and above them a drawer slides open, a box floating down to rest in his hands.

"Hmm... Unicorn hair will definitely match you..." He opens the box to reveal a sturdy and finely decorated wand. "Try this one. It's rowan."

Bobby picks it up, immediately dropping it again as it freezes, splitting down the middle. "Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry," he apologizes, staring forlornly at the two halves of the wand in his hand.

Charles' eyes are wide when Bobby looks at him. "Your magic... it's so powerful it overwhelmed the wand." His gaze grows distant for a brief moment, then he turns and makes his way to the corner, crouching down to one of the lowest drawers. Bobby awkwardly leaves the broken wand on the side and shuffles in his direction.

"That one wasn't the right wand anyway. This one may be more suited to your degree of potential." He holds out another box. The wand inside is plain and thin, the handle carved in a spiral pattern. Hesitantly, Bobby picks it up, and it grows pleasantly warm in his palm.

"Ah, that's the one!" Charles beams. "Willow, willow. I should have known." He slips his wand back into a hidden pocket and heads toward the door, shoes clicking rhythmically against the floor. "Off to the Danger Room, then. We'll start your training right away!"

The willow wand twitches impatiently in Bobby's hand. He follows Charles out the door, footsteps syncing with the nervous pounding of his heart.

"We'll start off simple," Charles says as they enter the Danger Room. "Focus on the wand and allow your magic to flow through it. You should be able to focus it into a sort of...beam, which will then freeze this glass of water." Charles points to said glass of water on the floor, then pats him on the back. "Don't fret; it may seem overwhelming at first, but your magic is just waiting to be released. It'll come naturally, I promise."

Taking a deep breath, Bobby points the wand with trembling fingers, struggling to aim. A million worst-case scenarios race through his head, and his bones start to throb with anxiety.

"Don't think," Charles murmurs. "Relax." With that soothing voice grounding him, Bobby steadies his hand. A tingle creeps up his fingers, and with a burst of energy the cup is frozen solid to the ground, the wand reassuringly warm in his hand.

"Marvelous!" Bobby heaves a relieved sigh. "Your wand seems very comfortable with you," Charles says, glancing up from where he's placing another cup on the ground. "Now, let's see if we can get you a bit more comfortable with magic."

~

Emboldened by his newfound success, Bobby continues practicing under Charles' watchful gaze until lunch is nearly over. It's only after Charles insists he take a break that he makes his way to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

Two bites into his pork sandwich, he remembers John's proposition the night before. Although the memory is blurred with drowsiness, he can remember the sharp emotions that had lanced their way through his heart at the time. Half nervousness at the potential damage he could cause, and half... something else. He scarfs down the rest of the sandwich without really tasting it and casually sneaks back down to the Danger Room.

The hairs on his arms prickle up as he approaches the door, an intense, suffocating pressure hovering around the room. The wave of sweltering heat that floods over him as he peers inside takes him by surprise, but it's only secondary to what he sees a moment later.

A vortex of flame is swirling in the center of the room, sparks flying left and right as it grows stronger, brighter. Squinting through the searing blue core of the fire, Bobby can barely make out the dark outline of John, hands upturned like a screenshot of the Percy Jackson movie. Subconsciously, he worries that his watch is going to melt, before realizing that he already lost it. The fire abruptly dies away in a cloud of smoke, causing Bobby to blink and cough, waving his hand to clear it away. When he looks up again, John's staring at him from across the room with a strange look on his face.

"You actually came," he says slowly.

"Don't really have anywhere else to be," Bobby responds. Then, "Are you sure this is safe?"

John huffs, rolling his eyes. "I was the one who stopped you last time, remember?" With a flick of his lighter, a small flame dances at the tips of his fingers. "I can take anything you dish out, Drake."

Willing his mind away from the more... inappropriate responses to that, Bobby shrugs, not wanting to argue about it. "I guess." He takes out his wand, and John makes a face.

"Really? Using a stick now?"

"My magic doesn't work otherwise," Bobby responds defensively.

"Bullshit. You didn't have a wand back when you froze the whole damn room, did you?" John's eyes narrow. "First lesson, Drake: never grow dependent on something that can be taken away."

Bobby can't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "Like your lighter?" He asks. John spins around and glares at him.

"That's different." His words are biting, but also... regretful? "I can't make fire, only control it. I have no choice but to be dependent on that lighter." His gaze drifts upward to some far off place. "I was caught off guard without it once. Got these," He pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal two precise scars near his collarbones. "I'll make sure that **never** happens again." Bobby shifts on his feet uncomfortably and John's eyes snap back to him. "That's why you should never grow too dependent."

"I-I'll try my best," Bobby mumbles, unnerved by the evidence of John's story. "But for now I'm going to use the wand." John huffs but shrugs with a 'go ahead' look. "...What do you want me to do?"

"Be creative," is the response he gets. Bobby's mind runs blank until he remembers the icy patterns on the windows that exude cold beauty in their natural state. Raising the wand, he creates an icy patch on the wall, forming spirals and flowery patterns on instinct. The piece is amazing when finished, something like modern art painted onto the wall of this isolated room. With an incredulous laugh Bobby turns to look at John, a glint of pride glimmering in his chest. John raises an eyebrow at him, challenging, and starts to sculpt a castle of fire on the ground.

Walls, gates, even a tiny flag on the highest tower takes shape before his eyes. John's dedication to detail is impressive. With a burst of inspiration Bobby freezes a portion of the floor around the castle, and as it melts from the heat of the fire it forms a messy yet recognizable moat.

And as he stares, mesmerized, at the burning towers and intricate fiery drawbridge in progress, he realizes something important. Something inside him has changed.

It finally feels... warm.


	5. Part 2: Autumn Almanac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else have crushes that you will never act on?

The leaves outside are brown and red and gold, dangling from the twigs of the peach trees as if clinging to the last remnants of summer life. A cool September breeze blows by, ripping a few off the branches to spiral down and nestle reluctantly in the grass. A common black crow combs through them with its beak, then, disappointed with its nonexistent findings, flies away with a steady _flap-flap_ of its dark wings.

It's been a couple of months since Bobby came to the mansion. He's finally signed up for some of the regular classes: Potions with Hank, Magical Creatures with Logan, and Muggle Studies and the History of Magic with Charles. Often times Raven sneaks in and listens to her brother's lectures along with the class, but she always leaves before the bell rings.

The lessons are fascinating, so much more interesting than the classes he took back home. He learns that Charles is a type of wizard called a "Legilimens". He learns how to make truth potions and who Dumbledore is and what casting a "wingardium leviosa" feels like. He learns what an obscurial is, and that it feeds off of negative emotions, and that that's probably the reason why his magic doesn't work without a wand, at least not yet.

He spends more time with Rogue and John now than his first group of friends. Although they all still eat lunch together (with the exception of John, and occasionally Peter, who insists on sneaking off campus to get chow mein and orange chicken from Panda Express), Bobby often cuts it short to go train in the Danger Room. He doesn't have much free time anymore since classes take up most of his day, so he makes the most of what he's got.

Despite John's warnings about dependency, Bobby still has trouble using his powers without the wand. Whenever he tries, there's a stirring inside of him, and when ice starts creeping up his arms he inevitably starts panicking and cuts it off before it can go any further. John always tries to egg him into releasing his full power, and every time Bobby responds with a firm "No", and leaves the room before his emotions get out of hand. It's not that he doesn't want to try, he tells himself. He's fairly certain he can control himself now, but he doesn't want to risk hurting anyone else.

Normally the Danger Room is unoccupied when he gets there. There was one memorable occasion when he walked in on a couple making out in the corner. He had blushed and quickly excused himself, fleeing back to the cafeteria. Ever since then, he double checks that the room is empty before he uses it.

Today it seems someone is already inside, a curt voice floating out of the room over the sounds of sparring. Bobby turns to leave, but another sharp voice interrupts and catches his attention. _John?_ he thinks, a bit confused. For a moment he hesitates, debating whether or not to stay and eavesdrop, then his curiosity overcomes his guilt and he puts his ear close to the door frame to listen.

"Weak, Warren!" John shoots. _So he's training with Warren?_ Bobby thinks, the tiniest amount of jealousy lodging in his heart. There's a click and the sound of fire flaring. "What happened to you?"

The noise of the fire drains away and Bobby hears a few flaps of wings. "You know I'm not in shape," Warren says defensively. "If you wanted a challenge so bad, why didn't you invite your precious ice-boy to train? I hear he's Omega-level."

"He's holding himself back. Too repressed to embrace it, I guess." Bobby bristles a little at the fact that they're talking about him. "But you're changing the subject. Are you even practicing fights anymore?"

Warren huffs audibly. "I have someone I care about now. I can't afford to get involved in that kind of stuff anymore." There's a pause, then Warren yelps. "Ow! What'd you do that for?!"

"You're holding yourself back too." John's voice is cruel and disappointed. "All that sentimental bullshit is keeping you away from your potential! You used to be the strongest, and now-"

Warren cuts him off with a scoff. "You think I don't realize that?! I weighed the pros and cons. I know what's more important to me. Don't try to lecture me about things you have no knowledge about." Then there's the sound of footsteps, steadily getting louder. Bobby quickly moves away from the door and casually leans against the desk, trying to look like he was not just spying on them. Warren exits in a flurry of feathers and tension, gives Bobby a suspicious glance, then strides to the elevator without looking back. From inside the Danger Room John yells angrily and starts up a fire again. Even from his position across the hall Bobby can feel the temperature rising, the heat from the fire growing to extreme proportions. He decides to leave John alone for now.

Instead, he goes back to the cafeteria, only to find a small crowd formed around the corner. Peering over the many heads, he spots Kurt crying in the corner, with a mop of silver hair that could only be Peter crouched nearby, murmuring comfort to him. Kurt's tail is wrapped loosely around Peter's forearm, and Peter has a gentle hand on his back.

"Hey Bobby," Rogue's voice comes from behind him.

"Rogue," he greets, turning to see her. "What happened?"

"Kurt's mom is leaving, and he hasn't seen her in ages. She didn't really talk to him either while she was here."

"Who's his mom?" Bobby asks, confused.

"You don't know?" Rogue responds. "The Professor's sister, Raven, is Kurt's mother." She observes the two figures in the corner and lets out a pitying sigh. "She left him here when he was little. It's sad, but she isn't the first person who's done that." Her eyes linger on Peter, who's wiping the tears from Kurt's face with a napkin.

There's a flapping sound, and everyone looks up as Warren soars over the crowd to land next to his boyfriend. He makes eye contact with Peter, and they exchange glances before Warren's gaze softens. He gathers Kurt up and flies away with him, leaving a few feathers in his wake. Peter stands and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand before speeding away in a blur, leaving the crowd to disintegrate on its own.

"I hope Kurt will be all right," Rogue says. "Everyone's worried about him."

Something nags at him. "Actually, I wanted to ask: John was saying something about Warren being very strong before, but now he isn't?"

Rogue drags him over to a table and grabs a chair, sitting down and lacing her fingers together like a therapist. "It's not really like that," she starts. "But it's a long story. Basically, Warren used to be a very famous illegal ring fighter and a huge alcoholic. But after he met Kurt, he realized that being involved in those kinds of illegal fights would put those he loved in danger. He turned his whole life around and gave up everything so he could protect him." Rogue sighs with a smile. "It's so romantic."

The story sounds like a fairy tale, one in a million. A bad-boy like Warren sounds like the last person that would change their whole life for someone else, but apparently he's done so.

When his mind drifts to John he immediately cuts it off. He can at least see Warren being a hopeless romantic underneath his rough exterior. John, on the other hand, is based purely in cold hard logic. There's absolutely no chance he would ever even consider doing something like that.

And Bobby really shouldn't be thinking about his friend like that, anyway.

~

Two weeks pass and there's still a blonde woman sitting sullenly at the front table come dinnertime.

"I thought she was leaving?" Bobby asks.

"Change of plans," Jubilee responds, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "She's staying for a few more months. Obviously isn't too happy about it either."

"Well, let it be known that she's not the only one," Peter adds irritably. He stabs at his salmon and makes a face, starting to pluck the bones out from the fish. Then he blinks as if remembering something and quickly rummages around in the pocket of his leather jacket, eventually drawing out an object wrapped in tissues. He then holds it out to Bobby, who takes it with a confused look.

"Sorry about that," Peter says. The mystery object is heavier than its small size would suggest. Bobby unwraps it and then glances up to meet Peter's gaze because it's **his watch**. The watch that had been missing since he got here.

"Where did you find it?" Bobby asks. Peter stares at him some more, uncomprehending, before opening his mouth and then closing it. He presses his lips together and then exhales through his nose.

"Weeell..." he says, stretching out the word. "How do I say this..." He taps his fingers on the table and then sighs. "Look, I'm kind of a kleptomaniac. So... I actually stole it off you. But I always give things back if I can!" He adds quickly. "So no harm done... right?"

He's obviously worried about what Bobby will say. "Sure," Bobby replies with a shrug. "No harm done."

Peter sighs in relief. "Thanks man," he says. "Oh, and here Jean," he reaches into his pocket again and hands her a cell phone.

Jean rolls her eyes at him. "You do realize the more you steal this from me the more traps I'll make, right?"

"That's what makes it fun," Peter winks at her. She scrunches her nose in response.

"Do you only steal from people you know, then?" Bobby asks him, curious. Peter nods.

"Yeah, for the most part. Although I did swipe John's lighter once. He got super pissed and threatened to light me on fire in my sleep," Peter laughs weakly. "Needless to say I don't steal from him anymore."

_Obviously he got pissed_ , Bobby thinks. _That lighter's his only way of defending himself_. But he doesn't say anything out loud, just stares into his plate of fish bones as if divining the future. With the way they're arranged (forming a big X), the future doesn't look like it's going to be very bright.

~

He finds himself thinking about John more and more. The other boy's brown-blonde hair gleaming with hair gel and sweat from the heat. The smirk on his face as he forms the name "Drake" with those chapped lips in a drawling, sarcastic tone. The look in his eyes (part wild excitement, part furious concentration) when he starts a fire.

The scars on his collarbones that make Bobby's stomach curdle with negative emotions. The hollowness of his gaze when he thinks no one is looking. The way he tosses and turns in bed, fighting off the nightmares that trouble him every so often.

The way something hurts in Bobby's chest every time he looks at him.

Why does his chest hurt like that?

"Still using that piece of wood, I see," John says from somewhere behind him. Bobby turns from where he's been practicing building icy walls to see John flicking his lighter open. With a single fireball he destroys the shaky wall Bobby had been working on. "I keep telling you, you're limiting yourself with that thing."

"And **I** keep telling **you** , I still can't do anything without my wand." With a quick gesture of his wand, he attempts to build the wall again, only managing a simple ice structure about knee-high.

John grabs his wrist. His hot fingers feel like they're burning brands into Bobby's skin. Their eyes meet for a charged second, before John reaches over with his other hand to pluck the wand from Bobby's grasp. Then he adjust his grip so that his pointer and middle fingers are in the center of Bobby's palm, the other three fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist. He brings their entwined hands to point at the far-off wall. His fingernails are a bit long, Bobby notices.

" **Now** try," John demands. Bobby shivers, overcome for a moment by their close proximity to each other. He can feel the heat emanating off John's body from where he's located, a little to the right and behind Bobby, peering over his shoulder. Then he focuses, concentrates on his magic. He can feel it swelling up inside him, a cold mass in-between his lungs and his stomach. Ice starts forming on his hands, just like every other time, but... this time John's own hands are there to prevent it from spreading. There's a hissing sound, and the ice starts melting, dripping onto the floor.

Emboldened by this, Bobby loosens the reigns on his magic slightly. There's a cold tingle and then a small burst of ice shoots from his fingertips, freezing a layer over the wall. His hands are shaking by the time he looks down again, only to see John's hand frosted over, as though the ice overcame the heat.

John lets him go and stares at his hand incredulously, then looks back up at Bobby. "Nice job," he says finally, with no trace of sarcasm in his words. He hands Bobby back his wand and massages his temples. "I'll... see you later, I guess." Then he turns and walks briskly out the door.

Confused, Bobby watches him leave, then sinks to the floor with his back to the frozen wall. _What in the world just happened_ , he thinks, _and why do I feel so unsatisfied?_


	6. Deep Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Brotherhood!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik, Janos and Azazel are post First-Class era, Angel and Sean are mid First-Class mindset, and Moira is post Apocalypse mindset.

Bobby's in class, Charles prattling on about how jinxes were first discovered when **he** arrives. Logan rushes in (earning a dreamy sigh from Rogue) and pulls the Professor aside, whispering frantically to him. Charles' eyes widen and he nods. "Class dismissed for now," he calls, and walks out with Logan trailing close behind. Bobby trades glances with Jean as all the students rush to exit the classroom.

They follow the Professor outside, where a small group of strangers stands in the garden, waiting. The most eye-catching one has bright red skin, contrasting sharply with his dark hair and clothes. Next to him stands another man with long, stylish brown hair. On the other side of the group are two younger kids: a girl with fairy-like wings, and a boy with curly hair and freckles. In the center of the group, an intimidating man in a leather jacket stands with a ridiculous magenta helmet in his hands.

Charles makes a hand gesture to the group of students milling behind him. _Stay back_. He then walks out across the lawn to meet the strangers. Bobby watches his purposeful stride, feeling the tension in the air.

Behind him, Peter quivers.

"You're walking," the intimidating man notes. Bobby watches in shock as the Professor socks him hard, making the man's head snap to the side. A collective gasp comes from the students.

The man mirrors Charles' earlier gesture to his own companions as the winged girl steps closer in retaliation. _Stay back_. With a scowl he rubs the impact spot, working his jaw. ""I suppose I deserved that," he tells Charles. "I will never underestimate your right hook again."

"Damn right you deserved that," Charles seethes. "You steal away three of my students AND my sister, dump your SON here and then **leave** me? It's a wonder I don't..." he trails off. "Three. Three students." He looks around desperately. "Erik, where's Darwin?"

The man, Erik, doesn't respond. "Where is Darwin?!" Charles demands. "Erik! Where is he?!"

The freckled boy breaks down sobbing, burying his face in his hands. The winged girl steps forward again. "He's dead, Professor," she says, face full of grim determination.

"Erik, you-"

"He knew the risks, Charles," Erik cuts him off. "He was willing to sacrifice everything for our cause." Charles grits his teeth and glares.

"So what are you here for, then? You're not here to spirit more of my students away on a suicide mission, are you? Because if you are," he gets up in Erik's face. "I will kindly tell you to **piss off**."

Erik meets his gaze steadily. "I'm just here to talk, Charles," he responds. "If you looked in my mind you would see that."

Charles stares at him for a moment. "Why isn't your helmet on?"

Erik shrugs. "Emma's in Europe." The implication of trust is clear.

"What about Jean?" At the mention of her name Jean stiffens next to Bobby. Erik glances at her, hesitating.

"If you trust her then I will too."

Charles huffs, then turns around sharply and walks back toward the school, Erik and his companions following uncertainly. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Are you still in contact with Moira MacTaggart?" Erik asks. "I need to know what records MACUSA has on Grindelwald..." Charles stops him at the door and points a finger accusingly at him.

"You will do nothing harmful in my school, do you understand me?" Erik nods curtly. "And if **ANY** of you," Charles looks over their group pointedly, "lays a **FINGER** on one of my students..." he lets the statement hang in the air before turning and striding through the open doors. Erik glances at Peter for a brief second, before following the Professor inside. Peter refuses to watch them go.

"I'll keep watch," the fairy girl says to the red-skinned man. She then flutters her wings and flies to perch on the roof of the mansion. The brown haired man is comforting freckle boy, who still has tears streaming down his face.

"Vater!" There's a puff of blue smoke and then Kurt is leaping at the red-skinned man, clinging to him in a hug. The man looks surprised for a moment before grinning. Somehow it softens his face, makes him look less malicious and more benevolent.

"Ah, I'm sorry it's been so long since my last visit," he says with a thick Russian accent, hugging Kurt back. "He's kept us so busy these past few months."

"That's okay," Kurt pipes. "We've been pretty busy ourselves!" He whispers something else into the man's ear, and then they disappear together in a puff of purple smoke.

Most of the students have dispersed to lunch, but Alex and Hank are still around. They carefully make their way over to the freckled boy, and Hank crouches down next to him, taking the place of the brown-haired man.

"Sean Cassidy," Alex greets, ruffling the boy's curly hair. "Nice to see you again."

Sean sniffs. "Nice to see you too," he croaks out. "I didn't think I was... was going to see you guys again."

"You're here now," Hank soothes. "Let's go inside, shall we?" He helps Sean to his feet and all three of them walk inside.

Now it's just Bobby and Peter. Peter, who hasn't moved since they first laid eyes on the strangers. His silver hair is haphazardly blown every which way by the wind, but he doesn't make to brush it away.

"You okay?" Bobby asks him, a little unnerved.

Peter's eyes shift slightly, looking far into the distance. "That was my dad," he says. Then in a split second he's gone, and Bobby's left with only the displaced air and the croaking of an unseen crow for company.

~

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, although there are some notable absences from many of his classes: Peter is still wherever he (literally) ran off to, Kurt is gone with the red-skinned man who is apparently his father, and John is off campus again for some reason or another. The most prominent absence is of course the Professor, who has been cooped up in his study with Erik for what seems like forever.

That night he dreams. Dreams of burning flames and the devil dragging him down, down under the earth. Dirt fills his lungs and smoke fills his vision, and he wakes, sweating and shaking, to a knock at the door.

Immediately, he knows it's not John. John saunters in whenever he pleases, and besides, he has his own key. Blinking sleep from his eyes, Bobby glances at his watch on the bedside table. Who in the world could be knocking at one in the morning?

He opens the door a crack and peers outside. Raven paces outside his door, eyes gleaming golden in the dark. "Bobby," she greets. "Charles wanted to talk to you."

They head down to Charles' study in tense silence. Inside, Charles and Erik are staring at each other over a chessboard, with a brunette woman standing in the corner.

"Good morning Bobby, and sorry to wake you," Charles says, breaking concentration to beckon him over. "We just need to discuss a few things before you can get back to sleep."

The brunette woman holds out her hand for a handshake. "Moira MacTaggart," she introduces herself, eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles. "I work for the MACUSA."

"So this is the Obscurial," Erik muses, giving him a casual once over. The hairs on Bobby's arms raise from the intensity of his stare.

"He won't be an Obscurial for much longer," Charles replies. "He's making amazing progress on his emotional control. It won't be long before the Obscurus dies. Which is a pity, because they are certainly very rare creatures."

"Normally I would have to arrest you for harboring such a high class magical creature," Moira says to Bobby. "But Charles is calling in some big favors and it seems like you've got it under control, so it should be all right."

"We can't get MACUSA involved with the school," Charles states firmly. "They'd shut us down in a heartbeat."

"You really are a professor," Erik murmurs, amused. Charles shoots a glare at him. "But on to the main issue. Gellart Grindelwald. The most dangerous wizard of this era. He's highly intelligent and is currently seeking out the Deathly Hallows. Rumor has it he's going to attack this very school in the next week while searching for the Elder Wand."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Bobby asks, confused and frightened.

"Grindelwald seems to have a certain fascination with the Dark Arts. I have no doubt he would be interested in exploiting your unstable powers if he heard about them, so we need to keep the fact that you're an Obscurial on the down low as much as possible." Charles sighs. "I just want to keep you safe, Bobby. I hope you understand."

"He is strong enough to keep himself safe, if only you would let him," Erik cuts in again. "Don't restrain him, Charles." The quote sounds vaguely familiar.

Charles sighs. "I don't want to have this argument with you again, Erik. Let's just go back to chess. Goodnight, everyone."

"Goodnight, Professor." Moira holds the door open for Bobby and Raven follows him out, leaving Charles and Erik to their midnight chess game.

"Take care of yourself, Bobby," Moira says. "Charles obviously cares a lot about you." Then she turns and heads down the hall, disappearing as she turns the corner. Raven nods at him before doing the same.

It's only when he's back in bed that he remembers the nightmare he had just before he woke up. Being pulled down to hell... what an utterly terrifying idea. He clears his mind and prays for peaceful dreams as he drifts off again, this time hopefully for good.

~

"Hey, wake up." Someone pokes him in the side. He squirms away from the invasive finger and groans. "Hurry up, Drake."

"Ugh... John? The sun's not even up yet." His eyes pulse with pain from the lack of sleep. John pokes him again and audibly huffs.

"Not yet, it isn't. Now get up." With Bobby still half-asleep and stumbling behind him, John makes his way up the steps to the attic, pulling down a ladder and climbing to the roof.

The tiles are cold and slightly damp from the morning dew, sky brightening just slightly from midnight blue to navy. John sits down with one hand over a knee and pats the space next to him. Bobby plops down next to him and shivers as a cool breeze gusts over them, raising goosebumps on his arms.

"Never really-" Bobby yawns, "took you for a sunrise type of guy."

John snorts. "The appearance of a literal giant flaming ball in the sky? Has my name plastered all over it." Then he grimaces. "Well, I suppose that's not entirely the reason."

He pauses, looking out over the yard toward the horizon. Miniature buildings in the distance distract but don't impede the view of the sky, warming steadily to a rich yellow-orange. Bobby waits.

"I ever tell you I don't like the dark?" John finally continues, eyes searching the line where sky meets land for something unknown. Bobby shakes his head, but at the same time thinks of the multitude of candles in their room and realizes that it makes sense. "It was always dark in the house. He would turn the lights off when they fought. It hid the darkness of the bruises on her face afterwards."

"The carpet was dark, too," John continues. "Easier to conceal the blood stains." He turns to Bobby, holding out his lighter. "I was thirteen when I found that." Bobby takes it with trembling hands, realizing the magnitude of John trusting him with his only defenses. It's a golden Zippo, worn around the edges from use. Its sides are clean, however, carefully cared for and wiped. As Bobby hands it back their fingers brush against each other, and he draws back quickly as if shocked.

John's eyes are intense, reflecting the chaotic red of the changing sky. "After that the fuckers were afraid of me," he murmurs. "I'm glad I burned that house down."

The first rays of sunlight hit them, blindingly bright and burning hot on Bobby's skin. "That's why I like the sunrise," John concludes, holding up a hand to shield his eyes. "It's when fire conquers the darkness. Finding its place above the world." Then he falls silent, squinting once more into the distance.

"It's beautiful," Bobby replies, watching the colors spread across the sky. "Thank you for sharing this with me." With his eyes trained on the horizon he doesn't notices how John has moved closer.

"I know this seems ironic but I actually like being cold," John changes the subject. "Where I'm from snow is as uncommon as two-cent coins, so whenever it snowed it was a rare treat. We would all go outside and fall under the spell of winter, and for a while it would be like everything was right in the world. Feeling cold... was kind of like my safety net, you know?"

Bobby tilts his head, considering. "It's not as great as you think," he says.

"It would be if it just learned to accept itself." John's tone is slightly frustrated, but there's something else there too, Bobby can't quite put his finger on it but he's missing something , isn't he...

"John-" he says, turning to ask but John's lips are on his and the words slip away in the face of that insistent kiss. John moves just the slightest bit closer until they're touching, hip to hip and chest to shoulder and mouth to delicious mouth, and the way that the morning light catches on John's hair and delicate eyelashes makes him look like a fantasy creature, something that should have never suffered though something as mortal as pain.

His own lips are chapped, bitten rough with nervousness from earlier. John's lips are rough too, but less from anxious habits and more from his "don't give a damn" attitude about things like chap-stick. Bobby finds that endearing. He finds a lot of things about this sarcastic, sharp-edged boy endearing. This boy who wields his tongue like a weapon and his aloofness like a shield.

But then the voices in his head start chanting. _Unnatural_ , they say. _Wrong, wrong, wrong_. They're both male, they can't do this-

He puts a hand on John's chest and pushes him away, blinking distressed tears from his eyes. "We can't do this-" he's saying. "It's wrong." _So very wrong..._

John reaches for him with an incredulous and hurt expression but Bobby can't look at him. He backs away and flees down the ladder, down to earth where the sun's rays don't reach, down underneath the earth where he belongs, because....

...because he licks his lips and remembers the heat, the passion and heavens above he had liked that kiss, what is wrong with him? Why does he have to be such...such a sinner? He's going to hell, and for a moment the pang of his heart makes him think it would almost be worth it for just one more touch of their lips...

_Freak_.


	7. Cold Turkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Withdrawal symptoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful beta called it "John withdrawals".  
> "Cold" turkey, pfft.

That day he seeks John out, but if he's being honest with himself he doesn't put much effort into it. Logically he knows he should go up to John and explain that, _no, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me_ and _you really shouldn't waste your time on me anyway_ , but he spends the whole morning planning out his speech and by that time he's learned that John's left campus for the day.

He spends the rest of his time drifting, half-dazed from what had happened just that morning, mind buzzing with what-ifs. He's so out of it Hank has to take him aside and ask him if he's okay in the middle of class. And what kind of response can he give to that, anyway? "I'm fine, except that I was kissed and maybe I liked it but I didn't want it and now I sort of do?" So he just shrugs and Hank pats him on the back as if he understands that Bobby really doesn't want to talk about it.

He's almost glad the Professor is still occupied with Erik because he doesn't think he could handle someone else reading his mind, hearing his innermost thoughts. He doesn't want to have Charles staring at him with pitying eyes, he doesn't want to have people noticing that something's wrong with him. He just needs to be alone.

So he finds himself on the roof again. Tense and full of emotions, he lets his magic out just slightly, frost slowly creeping up his fingers. He thinks about how John likes the cold and squeezes his eyes shut, cutting off his train of thought.

There's melodic laughter from down below. Curious, he cranes his neck to peer at the source. The sight of blue skin and white wings greets him, and he knows immediately that it's Kurt and Warren. They're playing around in the gardens, Kurt perched in the branches of a tree and Warren trying (and failing) to get him to come down.

"They're cute, aren't they," someone says from behind him. Bobby jumps and lets out a small, undignified shriek, almost toppling off the roof in shock. Thankfully Raven catches him by the arm before he can fall to his death.

After catching his breath and piecing together the scraps of his pride Bobby asks, "How did you get up here?"

Raven raises an eyebrow at him. "Charles wasn't the only one who grew up in this house," she says. "I had a lot of time to explore."

Right. Charles' sister. He had forgotten. Bobby nods in understanding as he looks down again at the two lovebirds now tussling in the grass.

"They **are** cute together, don't you think?" Raven reiterates. Then she exhales, expression falling. "I would say I've never seen two people so in love before," she murmurs. "But I'd be lying."

Bobby has a feeling what she's saying has something to do with her brother, perhaps, but she doesn't say anything more and he doesn't pry (something for which she seems grateful for). The silence between them stretches out long, but void of any tension as they just accept each other's company.

Bobby is the first one to speak, asking a question that's been on his mind for a while. "Why don't you talk to Kurt?" He keeps his voice soft and mellow, free of judgement. Raven tenses slightly before shaking her head reluctantly.

"He's my son, but I'm not his mother. I..." Here she pauses, lost in thought. "I'm not even sure I have the capacity to act like a mother. I've been a fighter for so long, maybe I've forgotten how to-- to love." She gives him a tight smile. "Someone as innocent as him doesn't deserve to have someone fake in his life."

"He misses you." Bobby doesn't miss how Raven flinches when he says that. "You don't have to pretend. Just be yourself. He already loves you... so maybe just, give him a chance to?"

Raven stares at him for a minute. "You're simultaneously the most perceptive and the most oblivious kid I've ever met," she tells him. Then she chuckles quietly to herself. "I guess I'll talk to him, though." Then changing the subject, "You're friends with John, right?"

Possibly not anymore, Bobby thinks to himself, but he nods nonetheless. "Thought so. He always talks about you when we converse. There's this motto Charles and I made up a long time ago... he probably forgot about it, but it's become my life's saying. I told John, and I think it may also apply to you."

"What is it?"

"Mutant and proud." Raven looks at him, letting her eyes bleed golden. "It means we don't have to be afraid of being different. As long as we accept ourselves, we can keep moving forward." She stands and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Think about it, kid. And maybe... try taking your own advice once in a while." Then she's gone, and he's left with only the prickle of cold as the sun goes down.

~

He stays up late, hoping John will show up, but around 2 AM he gives up and goes to bed with a heavy heart. His eyelids are crusted shut and swollen in the morning, and his limbs feel like lead when he stands, wobbling, to pull on a pair of jeans. The bed on the other side of the room is noticeably untouched. He attributes the pang in his chest to his lungs and not the organ right next to them.

He's not gay. The thought runs through his head over and over like a news bulletin in bright red bold font. Just because he can't think of any girls he's attracted to doesn't mean he doesn't like them, it's just... he's got homework, he doesn't have time for dating!

At least that's what he tells himself. Part of him, in the very back of his mind, whispers that he wouldn't have minded dating John, but he firmly pushes the thought out. Beautiful, confident John doesn't deserve to be stuck with a tainted and broken person like himself. And after a few nights spent waiting up for him with no hint of John returning, he gives up and tries to pretend it doesn't hurt as much as it does.

Their room feels so empty, the loneliness threatening to overwhelm him at any moment. He feels detached from the rest of the world. To distract himself he throws everything into studying and classwork, spending his free time alone in the halls working on potion formulas and memorizing famous wizards.

If he concentrates hard enough he can get through this. Loneliness is only an emotion, after all...

~

The forest around him is frozen, icicles hanging off the branches like holiday decorations. Fog clings to everything, leaving moisture cooling on his skin.

It feels like something is watching him.

He turns in a wary circle but there is nothing there, only the shadows left behind by the sun's rays filtering through the trees. And then... a sparkle in the corner of his eye.

Its silvery mane glints in the sunlight, majestically flowing like the fog. Its hooves are black as onyx and perfectly clean, as though they never even touch the earth. The horn on its head twists in a dangerous spiral up to a sharp point.

Snowflakes flutter down around them, but he doesn't feel cold. Instead he stares entranced at the beast in front of him as it slowly approaches and kneels in front of him. The tip of its horn touches his chest, right above his rapidly beating heart.

Then there's a searing pain and blood dripping onto his hands as the horn pierces his chest, and an overwhelming sense of **relief** rushing over him as the snow rushes faster and faster around him...

~

He inhales sharply and jerks his head up as the snow disappears, eyes struggling in vain to focus.

"Bobby?" Right. It's lunchtime. He's at the lunch table. Jean touches his elbow gently, eyebrows creased with concern. "You okay?"

He jerks his head up again from where it was drooping. His neck feels limp and rubbery. "U-Um, I'm just really tired today, that's all."

"Not just today," Scott chimes in. "You've been dozing off in class all week."

Has he...? He honestly can't remember. He's been working so hard to distract himself that perhaps he's burned himself out. Literally. Or metaphorically. Whichever one makes the most sense. How much sleep did he get last night...?

His eyelids flutter open again. "I...I'm fine. Better get going to class, then." He attempts to stand, knees wobbling, and nearly collapses back onto the table.

"No way, you're going to go rest." Jubilee puts her hand firmly on his shoulder. "I'll tell the Professor you'll be absent."

"Yeah. No offense, but you look like shit," Peter chimes in. "Just go take a nap. I'd be thrilled to skip class if I were you."

Bobby shakes his head, but there's a twinge in his neck and a throbbing pressure in his neck and a throbbing pressure in his head, so he gives in after a few token protests. He allows Jean to lead him, dizzily, up the stairs to his room. A fleeting thought darts through his numb brain that maybe John will be there, but it disappears as soon as their brown wooden door swings open, revealing nothing to his crushing disappointment. 

"Thanks for your help," he mutters to Jean. Her vibrant blue eyes convey a sense of unease and worry. "I'll manage from here."

"All right." She turns to leave, then glances over her shoulder. Her voice is gentle when she says, "Bobby. We all like you, you know.  **Nothing** about you will change that, even if you think it's something bad."

Bobby frowns. "I... what are we talking about?" She sighs and gives him a pitying look.

"Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow, Bobby. Take care of yourself."

He's hit with a wave of dizziness as soon as he closes the door. It's so cold all of a sudden... He stumbles over to the bed and wraps himself in the blanket, shivering curled up in the middle of the mattress. He falls asleep like that, somewhat nauseous and with cold sweat trickling the wrong way on the back of his neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The homework quote comes from Spider Man: Homecoming. My favorite part of the whole movie tbh.


	8. Black Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheets of ice, break like glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to throw some character cameos in there before the big heartbreak. Switches focus between Bobby and Charles, hopefully it makes sense.

The next week he comes down with the flu and spends most of his time quarantined in a guest room shivering, sleeping and blowing his nose. There is always a throbbing pain at the back of his throat, and chills plague him day and night. Being sick is like having a leech stuck to your head, draining all the happiness and energy from the source.

It absolutely **sucks**.

He coughs out a laugh at his own pun. Great, now his standards of humor are lowering as well. If there ever was a sign of mental deterioration, this would be it. 

There's a rapping sound at the door, and Storm's voice. "Bobby, someone's here to see you." A couple of people have come to see him since he fell ill, including Jean and Rogue, but it's never the person he  _really_ wants to see. Still, there's always that slight feeling of hope in the back of his mind that rises whenever he's told he has a visitor. The doorknob twists open and...

Oh. It's a girl. She has her hair pinned back, and a smile lights up her face when she sees him. There's a really tall guy accompanying her, who trails awkwardly behind as she rushes in and hugs him.

"Bobby! It's so good to see you again! I'm glad you're here! Well, not glad that you're  **here** , because that means you were discovered, but-"

Bobby coughs. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The girl withdraws her hands and grins at him. "Aw, you don't remember who I am? I guess it  **has** been a while..." She puts an arm out to lean against the desk, but then she  **falls through it**. "Whoops!" She pulls her hand out of the wood and inspects the desk. "Well, no harm done, I guess..."

Wait, she went through the desk... "Kitty?" Bobby asks. Is this really his childhood friend who got chased out of town? Her smiles grows wider.

"See, you  **do** remember me!"

"I thought you were dead," Bobby confesses. "What happened after... you know?" She shrugs.

"Eh, the Professor came and found me. I assume he did the same for you?" At Bobby's nod she smiles. "The Professor is always using his magic to find potential students. I heard he even has a room that allows him to scan the minds of the whole world! But that's just rumor." She turns to the tall boy hovering behind her and loops her arm in his. "Bobby, this is Piotr. He's my boyfriend!"

"Hello," Piotr says.

"He's shy," Kitty says. "Anyway, what have you been up to? How are you liking the school?"

Bobby thinks about it. "It's... really different. Sometimes it's almost surreal, being able to do all this. But I'm pretty comfortable here, now." Kitty gives him a look.

"Really? Because Jean told Jubilee who told Rogue who told me that something's wrong with you."  _Don't need someone else to tell me **that** , _Bobby thinks. "You've been acting weird. And when you act weird, I know what  **that** means." She flounces over and drops onto the bed. "Well, who is it?"

Bobby feigns ignorance. "Who?"

"Bobby! You know what I'm talking about. In kindergarten, when you had a crush on that girl you didn't eat for three days! In 4th grade you passed out in the middle of class because your crush had rejected you a couple days prior! We were friends for  **years** , and  **I** know how you act when you're in love. So tell me. Who. Is. It?"

Piotr sends a sympathetic glance his way.

"Look, Kitty, it's nothing," Bobby mumbles. Kitty snorts.

"Nothing? Really? Rogue told me Jubilee said you've been acting weird for weeks. **Weeks**! You've never had a reaction that bad. It must really be serious."

"He doesn't care about me, okay?!" Bobby shouts, then immediately quiets down. "Sorry for raising my voice." Kitty raises an eyebrow.

"He?" Bobby blinks, realizing his mistake. "Oh, Bobby," she pats his shoulder. "Is that what this is about? Havin' the ol' gay crisis?"

"I'm  **not** gay..." he trails off, burying his head in his hands. "I just... don't know what to feel."

"I mean, being bi is a thing?" Kitty offers, rubbing his shoulder. Bobby peeks up at her from between his fingers.

"But isn't it... wrong?" She gives him a pitying look.

"I understand. Your family was... kind of strict, weren't they?" She sighs. "I remember when I first got here. When I saw Kurt I freaked out and called him a demon. I still regret that, he's a really nice guy. Others don't really get it, but the way that we were brought up really affects our way of thinking, you know. But even so, nothing about you is wrong, Bobby." Piotr nods in agreement from where he's leaning against the wall. Bobby kind of forgot he was there. "I know it's hard," Kitty continues. "Change is difficult. But this is a safe place. No one's gonna judge you for anything. It'll take time to change your way of thinking, but it'll be all right. And if anyone gives you a hard time," she cracks her knuckles. "Piotr and I have your back."

Bobby sighs, then smiles. "Thanks. I'm still not really sure about who I am. But.... I'll try. You won't tell anyone yet, right?"

Kitty grins and holds up a hand. "On my honor."

A loud thumping noise comes from upstairs, the sound of many footsteps running. Bobby looks up at the ceiling. "What is going on up there?"

The door flies open and Logan barges in. His hair is sticking up even more than usual, giving him a frenzied look.

"Get up, we've got to go now!"

Bobby blinks at him slowly; the illness is taking its toll on both his physical and mental state. "What's going on?"

Logan grits his teeth. "Grindelwald is here."

~

Outside, Charles and Erik stand on the dewy grass facing the man with the bleach blonde hair. They draw their wands in unison, smooth as though it's been practiced a million times.

"You have a new wand," Charles comments, raising an eyebrow.

"Yew, dragon heartstring core," Erik replies, never taking his gaze off their opponent. "I got rid of the old one."

"The hawthorn one? That was a fairly powerful wand. What happened?" Erik grimaces.

"Reminded me too much of the past, is all." Tension lingers in the silence that follows, a certain wariness that comes from being in the same place as the enemy.

"Gentlemen," Grindelwald calls across the lawn, black robes billowing in the breeze. He takes a menacing step forward. "You must know by now what I'm here for."

"This may be a school," Charles replies. "But we have no knowledge of the whereabouts of the Elder Wand here." Erik moves closer to him.

"Can't you use your mind control on him?" Charles scoffs.

"It's not mind control. And you think I haven't already tried that? His defenses are too powerful. We'll have to weaken him before I try anything." Then he leans closer to Erik and murmurs, "Been keeping up on the dueling practice?" with a challenging glint in his eyes.

The corner of Erik's mouth twitches up. "Of course. You remember how I destroyed you in our seventh year. I could take him in my sleep."

"We'll see," Charles replies as Grindelwald takes a step forward. "We'll see."

~

The battle's been going on for at least an hour now. Bobby can hear yelling and explosions, little chunks of singed grass flying every which way while Kurt and Azazel teleport groups of students to safety in the nearby forest.

From his point of view at the top of the staircase, he can see everything with just a glance out the window. Erik has been slinging spells nonstop at the blonde man who Bobby assumes is Grindelwald. The Professor, true to his pacifistic ideals, is focusing mainly on defense, occasionally casting a spell or two to give Erik a break. Bobby's actually very impressed how well they work together, considering how Charles had punched Erik in the face just a few weeks prior.

"Hey." Moira's voice floats over from the bottom of the stairs. "Most of the students are evacuated. We should leave soon; MACUSA agents will be on the scene as soon as the duel is over."

She walks up to stand next to him. "You think they'll be okay?" He asks softly. There must be something in his tone that conveys his worry because she smiles at him reassuringly, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Charles may be the most stubborn, self-sacrificing person I know, but he knows when he's outmatched. And Erik has his flaws, but he won't let anyone lay even a finger on Charles. They'll be fine." She glances at him. "Erik taught you a bit of duelling, did he not?"

He had. At Charles' insistence he had led a couple of classes on duelling, focused primarily on defensive spells to Charles' approval. Bobby was particularly fond of the Expelliarmus charm. He nods.

"Then you know that Erik is quite the expert." From what Bobby could tell, the man **was** exceptionally skilled with his wand.

"Yeah, he's pretty good." He tilts his head. "So what exactly is MACUSA? From what you've said it sounds like a secret branch of the CIA or something." Moira laughs.

"You could say that. Although, it's not so much a branch as an entire seperate organization. We're basically the government for the wizards of America."

"And what does Grindelwald have to do with this?"

"The biggest reason wizards aren't persecuted by Muggles is that we hide our existence. Grindelwald's goal is to start a revolution and destroy MACUSA in order to change the laws that keep us hidden. He believes we shouldn't have to hide. And I admit he has a point. But killing people isn't the way to do it." She sighs. "Erik used to be like that, too. He and the Professor had a falling out a long time ago. The Professor believes keeping our identities secret is the safest way to do things, but Erik... well, he's working on it. Him and the Brotherhood have been working to inspire pride in wizards, especially the wandless magic variety, but others are less than thrilled about it. He doesn't like Grindelwald, though. He rejected that kind of ruthless power seeking a while ago." She pauses. "Grindelwald seems to think the Elder Wand is here, but-"

A small figure standing on the doorstep catches Bobby's eye. "Um... I think there's a kid down there."

Moira blinks, following his gaze. "Oh god, you're right." She hurries to the stairs, her heels clunking rhythmically on the floor. "Let's go! We need to get them out of there before-"

...And with a rumble the whole front of the mansion collapses.

~

They've been duelling for a while. Grindelwald's occlumency skills are holding up fairly well; Charles can't get a read on his mind. He throws up another Protego while Erik readjusts his grip on his wand. "How are you holding up?" he asks.

"Well. You?" 

"I could go longer." They advance, shoulder to shoulder. "Grindelwald!" Charles shouts. "Give up now. You should know you can't beat both of us alone."

The blonde man smirks, sharklike. "Very true. But what if I wasn't alone?" Then he disapparates with a loud crack, like a bolt of lightning.

"Where did he go?" Erik snarls. There's another clap, and then Grindelwald is behind them.

"What if I had a little friend to help me?" he says, sing-song. He has his hand on someone's shoulder. A kid.

"Malachite," Charles breathes. His hand trembles. "Erik-"

"Ah, no talking," Grindelwald holds his hand up, pointing his wand at Malachite with the other. "Unless you want your precious student's head to explode." He motions to them. "Put your wands down."

Erik grits his teeth, but they both set their wands on the grass. 

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Where is it?" Charles clenches his fists.

"We don't know. It's not here." Grindelwald makes a face.

"Well if that's true, you won't mind if I search the place. Now, I'm going to walk inside, and you're not going to move from that spot. If you move, the kid dies. Got it?" He turns without waiting for a response, robes billowing behind him.

"Charles." Erik murmurs. "I'm sorry." A twinge of panic rises in his heart.

"Erik, what-" He holds up his hand and makes a downward movement. Charles watches in despair as the front of the mansion crumbles, the steel in the frame being shaken up and removed. The ceiling falls in chunks, and both Grindelwald and Malachite are buried in the rubble.

He turns and socks Erik again.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" The sound of brooms overhead makes him look up, and MACUSA agents land on the lawn, rushing toward the destroyed front entrance. Erik rubs his bruised face.

"I did what I thought was right," he says honestly. There is no trace of remorse on his face. "He would have gotten away otherwise."

Charles snaps. "You thought, oh, two deaths is better than none?!"

"He would have killed more people," Erik murmurs. "I did what I had to." Charles growls at him.

Moira's voice calls from the pile of rubble. "Charles! Come quickly!" He glares once more at Erik before plucking up his wand and rushing over. There are a few MACUSA agents clearing away the chunks of plaster, and Malachite's body is lying on a stretcher.

"He's alive, but unconscious," Moira informs him. He relaxes in relief. "Grindelwald isn't here." He tenses again.

"You mean to tell me this whole thing was for  **nothing**?" He opens his mouth to shout at Erik but his legs suddenly collapse underneath him.

"Professor!" Bobby runs over to help him up. "Are you hurt?"

"No, it's merely Malachite's magic wearing off." Bobby helps maneuver him to the grass where he sits down gingerly. "What are you doing here, Bobby? Shouldn't you be with the other students?"

He makes a bashful face. "I was talking to Miss MacTaggert and we spotted Malachite so we went to get him but..."

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I see." Bobby tenses as Erik approaches them.

"Charles. I understand if you don't want me here anymore-" Charles cuts him off.

"You'll always be welcome here. Even if I'm initially not happy to see you." He glances up at Erik forlornly. "But you're still going to leave anyway, aren't you."

Erik nods, almost imperceptibly. "I have to keep tracking him. I'll meet Emma in Europe, see if she's got any new leads on where he could be headed." Charles sighs, downcast.

"Go on then. Go meet your  **other** Legilimens." His voice is quiet with hurt. Erik's fingers brush his hair as he passes.

"I'm sorry. I'll be back." He goes to the center of the lawn. The MACUSA agents have already sorted through the mess and are beginning reconstruction work on the mansion.

"Take your time," Charles whispers. Erik's companions appear in a puff of red smoke, courtesy of Azazel. Sean is notably absent, with Raven taking his place. They link hands, preparing to apparate away. Kurt appears nearby, watching them with a mournful expression.

"Wait." A voice rings out across the lawn. A familiar figure strolls up to them from the edge of the woods. "I'm coming with."

"John?" Bobby mumbles.  _He can't be leaving, right?_ his mind projects. Charles blocks out his thoughts and focuses on Erik, who's looking to him.

"I won't deny him, Charles," he says in a low voice. John glares at him, as if daring him to object. He sighs.

"Keep him safe."

"Of course." John levels a stare at Bobby. Charles can feel the boy trembling beside him.

"Remember, Drake." The group links hands once more. His eyes are dark with emotion. 

"Mutant and proud." There's a popping sound as they disapparate. Bobby looks heartbroken.

He feels quite the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal: recreate "beach divorce" without it being on the beach and without Charles being shot. Think I nailed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I find McAvoy incredibly attractive?


End file.
